Like A Rock

*cough* <waving away dust and cobwebs> *cough* Day-um, y’all, it’s all dusty up in here!  It’s not that I’ve forgotten about you, Innernetz.  I’ve missed y’all tremendously, but if I didn’t focus on the freelance writing, copyediting, and tutoring jobs I rustled up for some extra cash, I’d instead miss things like electricity and food.  The past month was an exhausting pattern of workworkworkworksleepwork.  I’m not complaining — well, yes I am because that’s what I do — but this last month has been full of the suckage and no bloggage.

But I’m baaaccck, and I know you are just orgasmic with relief.  I’ll give you a minute or two to compose yourself and change your panties.  Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.

I had a break this weekend when The Cougar came to visit.  She took one look at my pasty pallor and prescribed large doses of Vitamin Daylight.  It took a while for her to crowbar me away from my desk, my ass having molded perfectly around my chair cushion, but once that was accomplished we headed to the park with Dingo Girl for a tasty but hasty dingolicious picnic. One of the paths that meandered up a steep hill took us along a massive vertical rock face jutting drunkenly out of the ground like Mel Gibson at The Passion of The Long Island Iced Tea. As I walked to the edge of the path so that Dingo Girl could do her bidness, I suddenly heard The Cougar say, “I’m going to climb that rock! I bet I can see most of the park from the top!” The next second she was scaling the smooth precipice like Spiderman with a sand wedgie.

“Come down!” I called.  “What are you doing?! Are you crazy?!”

The Cougar continued to climb.  “Take a picture!” she yelled.

My heart thumping so hard it sounded like Kirstie Alley in Wal-Mart flip-flops, I fumbled in my messenger bag for my camera.  Dingo Girl was pacing around my feet, whimpering.  By the time I found the camera, The Cougar was another five feet up.  She paused to wave at me.

“Don’t do that! Get down here!  You’re going to break your neck!” The Cougar responded by giving me The Cougar equivalent of the finger — she stuck her tongue out at me.  And kept climbing. 

I started to put the camera back in my bag when I felt a tug on Dingo Girl’s retractable leash.  She had started up the rock after The Cougar.  Dingo Girl, however, not having grasped the fine art of climbing 80-degree rock cliffs, shifted into reverse, going up the rock face ass first. I dropped the leash, crossed the path, and walked to the rock to get her down.  She crab-walked just out of my reach but not before planting a saucy lick on my nose — Dingo Girl’s version of the finger.

Dingo Girl halted her upward progression about twenty feet up where the rock veered even more sharply up the side of the hill and sat down.  She somehow remained stuck to the side of the rock, jutting from the cliff like Pinocchio’s nose at a Tea Party rally.  I started to scale the cliff to save her.

“Mom!” I yelled.  “Call Dingo Girl to you.  She has to keep going.”

Hearing the panic in my voice, Dingo Girl began to get nervous.  She began to whimper.  And then howl.  It was a long, high-pitched wail.  It sounded something like I’msofuuuuuucked! I’madognotamountaingoat! She started to slide.  Pebbles, dirt, and bits of moss kicked up by her struggles hit my face like a rice-substitute at a very environmentally friendly wedding.  Here comes the bride.  Too bad she died.

My feet couldn’t find purchase against the slick moss.  Motherfucker!  Motherfucker!  slip, slide, whack! My knee crashed against the rock.  Motherfucker!  Still, I made slow progress toward Dingo Girl.

“Grab her!” I yelled to The Cougar.  She reached for Dingo Girl’s collar and…missed!  Dingo Girl slammed into me.  For the first time in years, I thanked the Universe for my big thighs.  More surface area to hang onto the promontory of death.  I managed to catch Dingo Girl, her head trapped between my knees and her butt in my face.  I breathed a sigh of relief but now I had a freaked out dog trapped between me and the rock.  And I was on a rock!  No, I was on the side of a rock!

The Cougar carefully scooted toward us and got close enough to wrap her arm around Dingo Girl’s back end.  We slowly moved up the remaining five feet or so in fits and starts like Frogger, The Epilectic Edition.  When we finally reached level ground at the top of the boulder, The Cougar and I flopped onto our backs, breathing heavily, and picking dog hair out of our mouths.  Dingo Girl went to pee on a bush.

“Well,” I said to The Cougar, “we made it! Thank you for that exhilarating experience!”

Then I grumbled something only marginally obscene.  You couldn’t even see the entire park from the top.  Too many trees!  I called Dingo Girl over and then turned toward her.  She was still rustling in the nearby bushes so I went to get her.  I didn’t want her near the steep edges.  I pictured her jumping over the edge and The Cougar jumping right after her because that looked like fun, too.

When I reached Dingo Girl, I realized that she had found a staircase carved into the rock.  The stairs led down and around the rock to a point about thirty feet in front of the spot where The Cougar had decided to climb.

And that, dear Innernetz, is how I lost my voice.

Leave a comment....